The fire is STILL BROKEN, PEOPLE.
It is ANOTHER perfect day in New Orleans (I feel like a WGNO forecaster low-key). There’s no humidity–just dry brightness that makes you want to breathe in real, real deep. 769 more words
I don’t know how to write about Lol Stein. I’ll start there, with an admission of my own limitations, a confession that any review that I write will fail to encompass all that I felt while reading it and all that I feel all these months and years later. 1,222 more words
“The story of my life doesn’t exist. Does not exist. There’s never any center to it. No path, no line.” But, for as self-effacing as the unnamed narrator in Marguerite Duras’ … 962 more words